Whate’er stood on it fervent thing—
As if the lover’s self were whispering.
And through her dream she heard it say,
The twist o’er her left ear,—
“I vow that I must love alway
The dearest of the dear.”
And o’er her forehead spoke a twist,
“That stolen glove I’ve kissed and over-kissed.”
Said one, “Thou are the loveliest;
Thy beauty I adore.”